The Home Run

The game had been over for about two hours when they finally started to scatter and leave the field.

It was the end of the summer, and the sky was darker at 8 p.m. then it had been for a few weeks, but no less humid.

There had been a good amount of talking and a good amount of drinking. She'd stopped drinking for the last two hours or so because she'd a. need to drive home and b. she didn't trust herself around him if she was drunk.

One by one people were leaving the field, until there was only a handful left. She was ready to go. She went to say goodbye to him, and leaned in for a hug.

"I'll warn you, I'm really sweaty," he said.

She couldn't control her mouth, sober or otherwise.

"Yes," she said just above a whisper, "because you know I'd hate to hug you all sweaty. That would be horrible."

He laughed, and as the hug lasted a moment, she found herself unable to resist reaching out and barely touching his neck, the taste of his salt, with her tongue. Flushing with embarrassment, she pulled away.

His eyes, as he pulled away at the same time, were a mix of surprise, mild scolding, and general amusement.

She held her red cheeks to cover them, and whispered, "Sorry!" and his face gave way to all-out merriment at her discomfort. He winked at her and said, "No you're not."

She opened the driver door of her car and sat for a minute trying to compose herself. She was pretty sweaty now herself. She cranked the car's A.C. and closed her eyes, letting it blow on her overheated face, chest, and mind.

The bang on the window made her heart jump 10 feet.

He was there.

"Can you give me a ride?" he said, after she rolled the window down.

"Sure," she said, gesturing to the passenger door. He opened the back seat, threw his softball stuff in, and got in the front.

He'd been drinking a lot more than she had.

They sat in silence for a minute.

"Listen, I just wanted to..." she said.

"Stop it," he said.

He looked at her, smiling.

"That was a pretty brave move on your part," he said.

"If you're using brave to mean stupid," she said.

"Nah," he said.

"I'm still embarrassed," she said, turning red again. What was it about him that made a grown woman like her turn into a 16 year old on her first date?

"I know you are. It's cute," he said.

"Why did you do that?" he said.

"You know why," she said.

"Tell me anyway," he said.

"Honestly? Because as soon as you told me you were covered in sweat, all I could think was I wanted to taste it," she said.

He stopped for a minute.

"That's an honest answer. I have to say, you certainly don't give up. Not even after all this time," he said.

Ain't that the truth, she thought.

"I have definitely given up. That was a mild setback," she said.

He eyed the empty softball field, his brain churning.

"So if I made an offer, you wouldn't take me up on it?" he said.

Her heart thumped loudly.

"I don't know. Offer? What kind of offer?" she said.

"I just had an idea. Come on," he said.

He got out of the car, once again grabbing the softball bag from the backseat.

She told herself this was a dumb idea. But as she was telling herself that, she was shutting off the car and getting out again, following him in the dark.

"Where are we going?" she called after him in the dark, the field now deserted.

He got to the pitcher's mound of the field and dropped the bag.

"Here," he said, as she walked onto the field with him.

"Look at you, on a real ball field," he said.

Her distaste for all sorts of athletic participation was no secret between them.

"I know. And I haven't turned into a pillar of salt even," she said.

He smiled.

"So here's my thought," he said.

"I'm not playing softball," she said.

"Really? You haven't heard my idea yet," he said.

"Unless you are offering me a million dollars to play softball, I'm not playing softball. I'm allergic to bats. Unless they turn into vampires," she said.

"Ok. Well, I wasn't going to offer you a million dollars. But it might be something you'd be interested in," he said.

She sat down in the grass, looking up at the stars.

"Ok, what is comparable to a million dollars?" she said.

He took his glove out and a ball, and tossed it in the air, catching it, playing with it in his gloved hand.

He tossed the ball to her on the ground, and she caught it.

"See, good catch! I knew I'd get you on the softball field eventually," he said.

She threw the ball back at him and he caught it in his glove deftly.

"So did I. I just thought it might be something not involving bats and balls," she said, smiling.

He laughed.

"Well, that's why you should have let me finish," he said.

She stopped short mentally, and caught his eye.

"You're not fucking teasing me again, are you?" she said.

"Always," he said, with a smile that was just aching to be slapped off.

She started to get up and dust herself off.

"I don't have the energy. Let's go," she said.

He grabbed her arm.

"Wait," he said.

He pulled a bat out of the bag and handed it to her.

"You probably don't want me to have a bat right now," she said, eyeing him irritably.

He laughed.

"So use that energy," he said.

"I'll make a deal with you. You get up to bat. I'll pitch to you three times. Standard at bat. If you get a base hit, whatever base you get to..." he said.

She patted her other hand with the top of the bat.

"....yes....?" she said. Boy, what a dramatic pause, she thought.

He looked her in the eye. "Whatever base you get to, that's the base we'll get to," he said, smiling.

She laughed out loud.

"Get the fuck out of here," she said.

"I'm serious," he said, again tossing the ball in the air and catching it.

"What? Why? Why now? Where did this come from?" she said.

"I honestly don't know. You know I'm a spontaneous guy. Plus, I'll be honest, I liked the way your tongue felt on my neck," he said.

She couldn't breathe for a minute.

"And I like the jeans you're wearing," he said, eyeing her up and down, with a smile.

She blushed.

"Plus, I figure, with your athletic history, odds are nothing will be happening tonight anyway," he said, laughing.

"Oh, fuck you," she said.

"Again, note the bat in my hand," she said.

"It's noted. Now let's see what you can do with it," he said, pointing to the place where people swing the bat. Not that she had any idea what the fuck that was called.

"Are you even going to show me how I'm supposed to hold it?" she said.

He laughed again.

"Cute. Nope. You'll figure it out," he said.

"You don't play fair," she said.

"Stop stalling," he said.

He turned his baseball hat backwards on his head and got ready to pitch to her. The air was still and humid. He wiped his brow.

Oh God, she thought. Don't turn your hat backwards. You were already killing me. I'll be lucky if I could hit the Goodyear blimp at this rate, she thought.

"Wait!" she said.

"Now what? Stalling!" he said.

"I have a dumb question," she said.

"Go ahead," he said.

In a very quiet voice, she said, "I don't really know what the bases mean in the other context."

He laughed out loud.

"Shut up!" she said.

"Catholic school! Whatever!" she said.

"The only one you need to worry about it is home base," he said, smiling. "I'm assuming that you know what that one means?"

"Yes," she said, blushing.

"The mystery of the rest will be resolved momentarily. All you need to do is get a hit," he said.

"Ok. I just wanted to make sure I knew what I was getting into," she said.

With his hand on the ball in his glove, and his eyes locked on hers, he said, "You're getting into what you've made pretty clear what you wanted to get into for the last few years. Now do you want to play, or keep bullshitting?"

She covered her difficulty breathing by giving him the finger, and putting both hands on the handle of the bat.

"That's more like it," he said.

He tossed the ball at her, and she winced, in an extremely girly, non-sportsman-like fashion, and closed her eyes, swinging in the air in a circle.

He rolled his eyes.

"Here's your one piece of advice. It's easier to hit the ball if you keep your eyes open — you know, so you can see it?" he said.

She gave him the finger again, and threw the ball back at him, hard.

"Nice throw," he said.

"Thanks," she said, her eyes determined now.

He pitched to her again and she missed, again, badly.

Her eyes filled quickly with hot, embarrassed tears, to be so awful at something that mattered so much to him, and to be so close to something she wanted so badly, and to go down in flames without it.

He caught her expression that she quickly covered up.

"Man, I thought you were kidding all these years about sucking at sports!" he said, teasing her.

"Go fuck yourself," she said.

"Given your performance, it seems like that is going to be my only option this evening," he said, toying with the ball in his hand, smiling at her.

She would have truly enjoyed cracking him over the head with the bat at that moment.

"Yeah, well sucks for you," she said, angry and without thinking.

"Because as bad as I am at softball is just as a good as I am at that. You think about that while you're over there playing with your ball, coach," she said.

He laughed.

"Noted. Ready for strike three? Let's put us both out of our misery, what do you say?" he said.

She gripped the bat with all her strength, bit her bottom lip, and just willed the bat to hit the ball with all of her being.

He tossed the ball to her nonchalantly and was about to drop his glove when the crack of the bat on the ball took them both by surprise. It took him so by surprise that it flew through his legs and down the field. The dark aided her cause as it was harder for him to find it.

She laughed. And ran. She barely knew where the bases were, let alone in the dark, but she was pretty sure she was past second and heading to third when he headed straight for her to tag her out.

They reached third base at the same time and she beat him by inches as he tackled her to the ground.

She hadn't run like that in a while. But when she caught her breath, she whispered.

"Safe?" with the back of her hand on her forehead, her back on the ground, eyes closed.

"Safe," he said, smiling at her.

"Not bad. Not bad at all," he said, tossing the glove and ball aside.

She opened her eyes and looked at his in the dark. She pushed his hat off and ran her fingers through his sweaty hair.

"I'm a mess," he whispered.

"I am too," she said.

She suddenly felt it stirring in her. That urging.

"So do I get all the bases or just third?" she said, giggling quietly.

"You can't do it right skipping the order. Technically you got first, second and third. A triple, as they say," he whispered, his hand on her hip, rubbing it.

"I know what first is too. I would have been ecstatic just with that," she whispered, looking at his mouth. His lips drove her crazy and normally she tried not to look at them.

Now she could indulge, looking at them, licking her lips.

"Oh yeah?" he said.

"Oh yeah," she said.

She was lying on her back, one knee up, he was next to her, over her, on one elbow, and he stroked her face with his hand.

He leaned into her with his mouth, finding hers. His lips gently kissed hers, softly, The fingers she was running through his hair tightened in it at the back of his neck, and her body leaned into his, lifting her leg around his hip. He pushed his body against hers.

Lying in the grass, the air was thick and silent, other than their breathing. Fireflies flashed intermittently in the late summer night. Wrapped around each other, damp and sticky with sweat, he leaned in to catch her mouth with his, gently, tasting her lips, feeling her tongue.

Her leg hooked tighter around his hip as their mouths opened together, tongues finding each other, and she couldn't breathe for a few seconds. His fingers dug into her lower back. Her hips moved unconsciously in a gyrating motion. His hand moved to her ass, tightly bound in the jeans he'd been eyeing stealthily throughout the evening, and dug his fingers into it, grabbing it tightly.

His lips worked hers, her hand moving from his hair to wrap her arm around his neck, pulling his mouth against hers, harder, their tongues deeper, teasing and twisting around each other.

He felt the hard ground under him, the musk of her perfume steaming in the damp air, felt the pressure of her ample chest against his, and his moved up to her hip, reaching the bottom of her shirt.

He pulled his mouth away from hers and moved it to her neck, to her ear.

"You really don't know what second base is?" he whispered.

"Uh uh," she whispered back.

His fingers moved to the top button of her shirt, toying with it.

Her hands moved to his back, digging her fingers into it, her breathing shallow.

"I'll give you a hint, I'm almost at second," he whispered.

His hand left her button and moved over to cup her breast in his hand. His thumb found her nipple and rubbed it back and forth over it, through her shirt. There was a quick intake of breath that sounded like a scream that was caught in her throat. His mouth moved back to hers as he worked her hardened nipple.

Her hips turned and twisted in response to his fingers. He pushed his hardening dick against her, between her legs, wrapping tighter around him. As his tongue probed her mouth deeper, he found the top button of her shirt again and swiftly undid it, working gently to the next, and the next, almost without her realizing it, until she felt his fingers on her naked skin, pushing her bra out of the way and finding her nipple, moving his mouth easily and quickly to it.

"Second base," he whispered, his tongue working her hard nipple, her fingers finding his hair again, tightening in it.

"I like second base," she whispered.

"Oh yeah?" he whispered, his hot breath on her nipple, "me too."

Her body was on fire. She wanted him to open all her buttons. Wanted to open all his. She tried to manage her breathing but her sensitive nub of a nipple was being teased, stroked, worked, and she was starting to lose it.

"I don't know if I can take any more bases," she whispered.

He laughed softly. His hand moved from her chest to the top button of her jeans.

"Really?" he whispered.

He pushed her back from his hips where she had locked herself with her knee hooked around, and opened the button, and now her breath was ragged, now her sighs were real.

"That's too bad, because I'm about to round third base, I think," he said.

He slid her jeans down from her hips, which wasn't easy because they really were very tight. And his fingers found her through her panties, found her clit, found her hot. She gasped harshly and her fingers found the grass and dug into it with her nails.

His finger teased the seam of her panties, reached underneath, teased her clit and gently opened her. Now it was his turn to gasp.

"Holy shit," he said. And he was truly amazed at how soaked she was.

His mouth reached her ear again.

"You are so...fucking wet," he said.

All she could do, biting down on her knuckle now, was nod.

"Oh my God," he said.

His fingers opened her, slid inside her, slowly, again, and again, and she covered her eyes with her forearm now, covering her mouth with her other hand. As her orgasm bubbled, ready to explode, she felt his mouth on her belly and suddenly she had a moment of clarity, and pushed him off.

"What?" he said.

"I got the hit. It's my base to claim," she said, pushing his back to the ground.

He laughed.

"Oh yeah?" he said.

She was in a fever — her body was running so hot she was probably close to hallucinations. Her eyes, though, were focused on him. For a moment he lost his control and wise ass attitude watching her over him. She leaned into him, teasing her mouth on his, taking it deeply, their tongues entwined.

Then she pushed him back, his back against the grass, pushing his shirt up, hungrily seeking his skin so sweet and salty against her tongue. It was delicious. She found his nipple and worked it with her mouth, but she was officially impatient. Slowly, so slowly she worked her mouth down to his belly. She took the button of his shorts in teeth and pulled at it ferociously.

He watched her over him, single-mindedly focused, her shirt open, her breasts spilling out of her bra, watching her work his shorts down, watching her eyes flutter as she reached his dick with her hands, with her mouth. Their sighs were simultaneous and equal in their ecstasy.

"Third base is my favorite," she whispered.

Slowly and gently she slid his dick deep into her hot, wet, hungry mouth. His fingers ran through her hair and she could tell by how they tightened it was good. So good.

Her tongue worked his dick as she slid it in and out of her mouth. Back and forth below the shaft, twirling around the tip, teasing it with her tongue, then back in, and out. Her mouth was so fucking hungry, was all he could think, so eager, so tantalizing.

His eyes were tightly shut and it was only his fingers loosening and tightening in her hair that gave away his feelings. She could feel his dick getting unbelievably hard, harder. She moved faster. She wasn't just hungry for this. She was starving, aching to make him come. She wanted it so badly.

Faster her lips worked him, turning her head side to side, rotating her lips as they traveled up and down his dick, her tongue licking and teasing. Before he knew it he was almost there.

No way. He wasn't going to let her win this game.

He pushed her off.

"No, no, no," she said.

"Oh yeah," he said, pushing onto the ground.

As he leaned over her, she realized his intentions. For a moment her lust-crazed brain through logic out the window and she was urging him to hurry as he tried to pull her jeans the rest of the way off.

Then she stopped.

"Hey, wait a minute," she said.

She was pleased to see he was just as short of breath as she was. "I earned my bases. Why do you get a free pass?" she said.

He laughed.

"Get the fuck out of here," he said.

She pushed away.

"Nope. Sorry. You want home base?" she said.

"Fuck, yeah," he said.

"You have to hit a home run," she said, pleased with herself.

"You're something else," he said.

"Ok, let's go," he said, fixing his clothes.

In a minute he was situated at home plate, bat in his hand. Hat on backwards.

The bat felt good in his hands. Like home. He felt powerful. Like he could send the ball to Mars with this swing.

She held the ball in her hands.

"I've never pitched a ball in my life," she said, her shirt still hanging open, her breasts still spilling out of her lace bra.

"It doesn't matter what you throw," he said.

"I'm going to hit it into another fucking zip code," he said.

"You want home base that bad?" she said, smiling.

"I don't just want it. I'm going to get it," he said.

"So pitch," he said.

Her first pitch hit the ground.

"Ooops," she said.

"Do it again," he said. She couldn't remember a time she'd seen him more serious. More determined. Her knees were weak.

"You're gonna hit this time?" she said.

"I'm going to hit the fuck out of it," he said.

"Hit it hard," she said, their eyes locked on each other.

"I'll hit it hard. You fucking throw it," she said.

She couldn't help but be a little wise.

"You ready?" she said.

His impatience was starting to show.

"I'm not the one who needs to be ready. You better be fucking ready, when I hit this home run. Seriously. So stop fucking stalling. And throw the fucking ball," he said.